Make Me a Match
by Aian Omoi
Summary: reworked! HP/DM but DM/BZ and BZ/RW, but RW/HG! LOVE PENTAGON? throw in some veela and some vampire and we got ourselves a nice stew. slash. mmm.... MADNESS! and anyway, who are these matchmaker people?
1. Beginnings, Beginnings

Make Me a Match—Chapter 1— Beginnings, Beginnings

Author: Aian Omoi

A/N: My GOD I haven't typed anything in like…. Two years! So much has happened my dear readers, I just don't know where to start. Ah well, I might as well allow you to read! (Don't forget to write a review!)

Disclaimer: Of course I don't know anything but the plot and the ideas that aren't JK Rowlings' I will not attribute the veela idea to Frizzy, considering they don't own veelas either. My idea, my plot. Frizzy can get kudos elsewhere. :)

* * *

It was a matter of time. The location didn't matter. And there was the person. Someone to choose. Anyone close would do of course. They wouldn't know it…

A wind blew through the capacious manor, rattling the levitating candelabras ominously. The half-light of the dim globes circled his throne as he meticulously copied ancient manuscripts to rune-covered tablets. A sliding, slimy, sound rolled across the room like sandy water, softly scruffing the slate and marble walls. Shivering, the candelabras quaked as if they too feared the occupants of the room. The tap, tap-rapping of his long sharp nails beat into the ebony of his workbench as the emerald snake most fluidly climbed her master's frail body.

It was a matter of time. The tablets to occupy it. The patience to endure it. The hunger to enjoy it. The desire to sate it. The death to end it. And Voldemort chuckled to himself.

---

It wasn't his birthday. That was during the schoolyear, January third. He hadn't done anything special. He wasn't expecting anything. So why did his father want him?

Stepping into the enormous study, Draco Malfoy looked around. Books covered his desk. From what he could see, the matter included everything from blood rituals and dark magic to vampires and silver properties.

Just a bunch of boring shit.

Scratching just under his jowl, Draco tried to convey all of his curiosity and nonchalance, a paradoxical combination.

"So father… about exactly what did you want to speak to me?"

"Sit."

Draco chose a comfortable chaise lounge. Eyeing the effervescent dust motes, glittering the sun's light as it set, Lucius Malfoy turned to face his son and spoke.

"Draco, there comes a time in every man's life when his body changes to accommodate life, his genetic material, et al. It all impacts this development and process… Of course, you…"

"Are you serious? I think I got the sex talk from Mother years ago, Father. I AM sixteen you know. Seventeen soon."

"Yes of course, well… Draco that is the point. This year you won't be coming home for the Christmas holiday. Necessity requires for us to let you be as you'll be changing far more than a normal young man would. You see, genetic materials with our pureblood magic of course play a much larger part in our family. By now, you may even be hungrier than usual, and when food is presented, you aren't as hungry."

"So?"

"Don't interrupt. On January third, I want you to go DIRECTLY to Headmaster Dumbledore's office. He has been sent an owl notifying him of this process. He will no doubt be best equipped to handle your condition at that time."

"Father, what are you talking about? You look frazzled."

"Indeed. I had hoped that it would skip you as well. It's a great power and a dreadful curse if uncared for. Try to understand, this can be easily appeased, and you, just as Abraxas, my father, did, can live a normal life. No problem. You'll just have to be careful. Even though this has come out recently to the wizengamot as a prejudice issue… There have been a few triumphs, considering they don't have to kill, but many are still disturbed by the thought of it."

"Of what?"

"Here's some summer reading Draco. I want you to know, you are my little dragon."

"And?" Draco knew something was wrong. He was getting nervous. His father only called him his little dragon when he thought Draco was asleep at night.

"Well, Draco you can't hide. You're a pureblooded Vampire." Pronounced Lucius, at which point Draco Malfoy stumbled backwards, collapsing in a chair and all the books on Lucius' shelves sprung out of their homes, unbound, and fluttered to the floors as sheets of paper from a release of shocked magic.

"Shit, that's some work to do." Muttered Luciius as he started casting spells to clean up the mess.

---

"Get out Dudley." Harry was NOT in the mood at the moment. He was tired from working out in that horrendous garden all day. He swore they just let it go untamed as long as he was at Hogwarts. The vines had wrapped themselves around the iron bistro table and chairs and the pavers had little weeds coming up between. It was terrible, really, the way they let something like that go just to torture Harry. After all, the backyard was fenced in so the neighbors couldn't see. It was Harry's personal Hell.

Dudley still stood in the doorway as Harry looked out the window. "Harry. Mumsy and Popsy wouldn't want me to give this to you, but here anyways." Dudley was being nice? He handed Harry a glass of pink lemonade and left quietly. That was quite odd. Ever since Harry had saved the whale from death in the summer between his fourth and fifth year, Dudley had deemed it neccessary to be kind against his parents' wishes. He was sneaky about it though.

"Thanks." Harry whispered as Dudley padded down the steps. Placing the glass down and pulling out a piece of parchment, Harry sent a letter to the Weasleys requesting that he be picked up for the summer. No doubt the Durselys would mind that their personal slave would be gone, but they really had no choice about that sort of thing. Arthur after all, WAS a qualified wizard.

---

In a dark cave, beneath a volcano somewhere near the Yukon in Alaska, secluded and secure, an old woman fluttered her bubblegum-pink wings while petting a white tiger cub. The kitten jumped off her lap as she stood crossing over to a large pentagonal table covered with upturned cards, displaying a face of every being in the world. The old woman shivered and sat down. At the table sat two more women, one with white wings, one with black; they were triplets. The pink-winged one spoke first.

"Elmadora, did you hear?" she asked of the black-winged matchmaker.

"Yes Lyphinnea, we're eliminating the unclean ones first."

"Let's have some fun this time." Said Lyphinnea.

"Lyphinnea, you always want fun. This one is serious." Said the white-winged matchmaker.

"This one is perfect, Sipathae. No, not her." The face on the card Elmadora held faded as did most of the cards on the table.

"Be careful, Lyphinnea…"

"I'm only searching. You know how I have to feel each one." She said as she stroked her hands over the cards.

"Nothing ironic." Sipathae's choices were so boring.

"Love is ironic." A lesson Lyphinnea had learned. Hadn't her sisters?

"This girl?"

"Too red-headed. No girls anyway."

"But it's a he!" Elmadora complained, throwing down all of the choices she held, as they faded.

"I know." Lyphinnea had that touch.

"He's had enough in his short life." Sipathae always was the one that thought of everybody's feelings.

"Exactly" Lyphinnea hummed, still sifting through the deck.

"Lyphinnea…" Elmadora warned, looking up through her spectacles.

"Ah! Here he is." Lyphinnea shivered with anticipation as she revealed the card to her sisters as if she were a fantabulous magician.

"Oh. We see. Lyphinnea… are you? Well yes… yes… We see now." The sisters nodded and placed their hands in their laps, before putting the cards back in their correct places.

"It's decided."

"Draco Malfoy."

"Harry Potter."

"It is almost time he be awakened." Lyphinnea smiled. She knew this was right.

---

A/N: PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! I know it's starting off slow. I'm sorry. Try not to be too harsh. Chapter 2 is much of the same, I think. I'll have it up soon. Oh my ba-jesus this is tiresome. Oh and sorry about the cut to Ginny. I just think she never did deserve Harry. Little prat…


	2. An Elder Visits

Make Me a Match—Chapter 2— An Elder Visits

Author: Aian Omoi

A/N: Here's the second chapter. Oh boy! This is getting to be….. oh nvm…. It's still slow. Lol

Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

* * *

The three matchmakers, wizened with age, sat knitting a single tapestry from the fur of the wild napaloff tree when a knock came from the ivory and gold door at the front of their entrance.

"Lyphinnea, did you invite someone again? We'v told you time and again, we're matchmakers, not entertainers." Elmadora admonished.

"No, I'm not expecting anyone." Said Lyphinnea, with a bit of sore indignation.

"Well let them in! You can't leave them out in the snow!" cut in Sipathae.

At a gesture from Lyphinnea, the door opened to reveal a majestic, but quite pale man with blonde hair that was pulled back into a very sharp, tight ponytail. He wore a white outer cloak to blend in with the snow, but upon removing it he was shown to be wearing a black and silver cloak with an ebony and blood garnet brooch that, with onyx legs, grasped across his chest. His pants were tight black nepaloff hide and his gloves were ash dragon hide. His blue within black eyes scanned the room before stepping into the cave with a graceful pace.

"Hello Elder Zyphal. It's been a long time." Greeted Elmadora with a touch of polite disgust, indicating his visit could have been delayed a few more centuries.

"Too long." Said Lyphinnea with blatant joy at seeing Zyphal. He was always fun to be around.

"Oh yes!" agreed Sipathae, always the friendly sort to Zyphal. Elmadora scoffed quietly, disgusted even with her sisters.

"I suppose it has been a few centuries. I'm sorry to come unannounced like this, but there was no time. You see, there's been a little mistake in the matchmaking. Draco Malfoy is unavailable."

"He wasn't when we matched him at…," Sipathae shuffled through an index of cards. "10:15 and 23.69 seconds yesterday morning."

"That was a full hour after we matched him. Fate has played a cruel trick on us!"

"There's no way to revoke a veela bond, Zyphal." Spoke Elmadora.

"Nor vampiric bonds. Though, there are second bonds if the first dies."

"So Harry Potter will try to bond with Draco Malfoy who wants to bond with whom?" asked Lyphinnea.

"Blaise Zabini."

"A reasonable pairing. But all humans die, so Harry won't age until Draco is ready to receive him." Said Elmadora, and by 'reasonable,' she meant pathetically dull and bland.

"Unless Blaise and Draco bond and Blaise becomes a vampire, in which case he will be immortal."

"Harry will die. Our most promising veela will die." A tear ran down Lyphinnea's cheek.

"Yes, unless…"

"Unless what?"

"I can put Harry Potter as Draco's second bond."

"That still doesn't get rid of the Blaise problem." Sipathae stated obviously.

"No, but Fate wouldn't have put us in this predicament unless there is a way out. And Fate seems to favor young master Potter."

"But Blaise will die, and a second bond isn't as strong as the first. Won't Draco suffer from sever depression from Blaise's death?" Lyphinnea questioned.

"Possibly Draco will suffer, but Harry should have enough of a close proximity. Plus, a second bond, when replacing a deceased first is just as strong. Draco will feel for Harry just as he feels for Blaise.

"Blaise will still die." Elmadora said smugly with a smirk. She had caught Zyphal dooming his own kind.

"Yes, but this is for the better. I do think a male veela can produce an heir from the two." That surprised Elmadora. She thought he would be insulted.

"A fully vampiric Veela child. Interesting. Harry will only be a half vampiric veela through the bond." Lyphinnea thought out loud.

"This propostion hasn't occurred for millennia. Eh, Elmadora?" and with shock on her face and a bit of a blush, the Elder Vampire disappeared into the raging elements.

---

Harry placed a small box containing some magically delicious cookies on Dudley's bed, to repay him for the kindness he unusually offered. Dudley had started a diet that requiered he eat no carbohydrates whatsoever. It hadn't worked, so what was the harm in Harry giving him these? Plus, they actually didn't have carbs. Magic was quite useful.

Taking a handle to his truck in one hand, and the handle to Hedwig's cage in another, Harry proceeded down the steps. Upon landing at the bottom, and looking up from his feet, he noticed a sharp nose and two beady little blacks eyes staring at him.

"Hello Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon. If you two could KINDLY move out of my way, I'll be off." He tried to sidestep them. It didn't work.

"Where do YOU think you'll be off boy?!"

"And without doing the dishes?!" Harry sighed before checking the time. One minute until Harry would be free.

"Stuff it." And nonchalantly, Harry stepped around his shocked relatives and walked right out of the door.

After waiting about five seconds, Petunia and Vernon came out to yell at him more. Only 47 seconds left. Actually, Harry could see them now in that old car of theirs.

"STUFF IT?!" Vernon roared, "STUFF WHAT? MY FOOT UP YOUR ASS!?!?!?!"

"Shhh Vernon! The neighbors wil hear...." Aunt Petunia screeched. She should know above everyone that only the Snozzlebys were home, and sleeping at that. 30 Seconds left.

"Just what I said. Stuff your fat arse throught that door again and leave me the fuck alone. Can't you understand that? Honestly, My birthday's in a couple of days. The least you could do is die or something." Harry had had enough. After all, he was legal after this last year at Hogwarts. Legal for MANY things. Vernon and Petunia were half-shocked into silence, unless you count sputtering gibberish as speaking. 7 seconds left.

"Good bye!" announced Harry with a little wave an a dazzling smile, before throwing the trunk into Fred and George Weasley's open hands, as Hermione (smartly and cautiously) drove with the exactness only she could have. Upon touching down to the ground for only a single minutia, Harry climbed into the levitating car and placed Hedwig's cage gently in the seat next to him, before they sped off madly away from the nasty house on Privett Drive.

The air rushed about them as Harry fastened on a red and gold scarf, the began to flap behind him in the wind. With the invisibility shield up, no muggle could sense the car's presence. Harry was so happy. He was free here. No one to order him around, unless he wanted it. (Though Molly of course did ask him to clean up any mess he made.)

"Sorry Ron couldn't make it. We could only fit so many, and after second year, Molly and Arthur seem to be convinced that only I can drive, considering Fred and George are.... well... themselves." Hermione apologized. Harry understood. He knew his best friend wouldn't blow him off. In fact, he hadn't noticed that Ron hadn't picked him up. It WAS just a quick commute!

"That's fine. So how's life?" Harry asked, starved for any information about the wizarding world and his friends. YOU try being cooped up like a bird in a cage for your entire life!

"Oh nothing really has been happening, except that Ron finally asked me out on a date. I thought I was going to have to ask HIM out!" Everybody laughed at Ron's complete inadequacy with girls.

"I thought I was going to have to kick him in the ass to do it!" replied Harry. This was right. This was his family, and he was already happy.

---

A/N: PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! the next chapter will include a LITTLE draco, but i think i need to stick more harry in. have fun!


	3. Realizing Love Always There

Make Me a Match—Chapter 3— Realizing Love Always There

Author: Aian Omoi

A/N: So this third chapter… don't know how proud I am of it, but still. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

* * *

Draco, after realizing there was no possible way to get out of this vampire thing became content in trying to know everything about his kind that he could before Blaise and Pansy came to stay for the summer. He toiled for all of a week before he got bored and started hexing innocent nymphs in the gardens out of pure frustrated rage. Like, how was someone supposed to get over that in a relationship?

"Oh, by the way, I'm a monster that happens to like extremely rare meat, nice and bloody. Your neck looks appetizing in fact. Might I have a taste?"

Of course, he could drink without killing, but still.....

Yes, even Draco Malfoy longed for a loving relationship. So, a week later, Pansy arrived on a pink carpet her parents had picked up in Saudi Arabia, and Blaise arrived on the latest model Firebolt within an hour of each other. Draco was relieved. He'd felt like a prisoner for the past month and a half. Only five more weeks until school started again.

Pansy looked preppy as ever, though she opted for crimping her hair this summer. Apparently it took an hour each morning, considering she couldn't use magic. She insisted that Draco should tan with her, but he held her off saying that he would instantly burn. It was true, considering Draco barely had a complexion.

But Blaise! Blaise for some reason looked more devastatingly handsome than Draco ever remembered. His dark features seemed to melt flawlessly together, and Draco felt a strange tug towards the Italian Stallion when their eyes met.

What did this mean? Draco really found most people unattractive. Even Blaise, before this summer. This summer was different though, somehow. It was like he was just drawn to him.

And this progressed for a week, layering itself, intoxicating Draco. He dreamed of Blaise, and in embarrassing situations too that left Draco blushing and changing his sheets every morning. Draco had had enough, besides, there was that annoying thumping noise he heard when blaise was in the room, like a heartbeat. Plus Blaise's neck: Draco found it incredibly sexy.

Something was wrong, Draco had concluded and he had searched through almost half of the books his father had given to him until he found the answer in 'Roxelandra's Vampiric Adventures'

_When an immature vampire nears his birthdate of his seventeenth year, within six months, he may notice that he receives his inherent vampiric abilities early. He may notice hunger and thirst, strength, both magically and physically, an acute awareness to minutiae, an inhuman speed, a capacity to hear the faintest sounds, the increased pallor of his skin, or any of a myriad of other things._

Well, Draco had no idea obviously of the pallor of his already creamy white skin. So really, this early, he had noticed either two or three of the seven things Roxelandra had listed. There were still four more abilities in the five months to his birthday. Was it Blaise's heartbeat he was hearing?

There was of course no rel way to tell his friends. Could he hint and allow them to 'figure it out.' Could he just blatantly tell them? Could he have someone else tell them? After all, Draco never wanted this. He could go somewhere and just... Well, Draco didn't exactly know, and this really bothered him. Everything was out of his control.

Malfoys are NOT accustomed to this.

After another two weeks, Draco began to realize that Pansy and Blaise would look at him oddly when Draco stared off into space, contemplating his substandard existence. Actually, they began to look at him more often than that. At dinner when they ate meat. In the morning when draco avoided his silver cufflinks. In the garden when Draco wore turtlenecks (cahmere/nepaloff blend) and reflective sunglasses.

Maybe Draco was hinting subconsciously. But Pansy and Blaise didn't offer any insight into their minds. Not even a single "Why?"

It frustrated Draco to no end. That is, until Pansy couldn't stand it any longer, and, siezing a moment when they could be alone, shoved Draco into a closet. (The Malfoys had spacious closets.)

"What is the MATTER with you?" demanded Pansy.

"Nothing. Besides you shoving me in here that is." Draco shifted nervously, obviously hiding something. Lying came naturally yo Draco, but something about the look on Pansy's face told him she wasn't taking any shit.

"Tell me..." Pansy half growled, half warned, tightening her grip on Draco's wrist, her claw-like nails digging into his flesh.

"I can't tell you! I mean, I could. but..." Draco trailed off, trying to find the words and weighing the consequences. He tried getting out of the closet, but Pansy stood in the way. Resolutely.

"Fuck you Draco. So tell me now, before I shove this up your perfect ass!" Pansy held a long, and to Draco, unnaturally thick mop-handle. The thought wasn't so pleasant to Draco.

"Don't tell Blaise. No one. Ok?" Draco turned away from Pansy, wringing his hands nervously. Draco Malfoy was never nervous. It was weak.

"Promise." Pansy answered. Draco rolled his eyes, though Pansy couldn't see and relaxed a bit. It was a Slytherin joke. After all, what good were promises in that house?

"Ok. Umm... Where to start.. My birthday is January third and... well... uh... Why don't you guess?"

"Vampire." Draco turned suddenly, almost slipping on the head of the mop. Pansy hadn't batted an eye. Draco blanched, and slumped to the floor. Pansy reached down and stroked the side of Draco's face tenderly. "It's ok, You're really obvious Draco. You'll blend in better at Hogwarts, but when you're here with us you loosen up too much. Plus, Turtlenecks? You vowed never to wear those things except when cold weather, how'd you say it, 'neccessitated the covering of every pristine Malfoy bit.' And how could I NOT notice no silver? you love silver. Duh. And all the books on your nightstand. Soooooooo Obvious." Pansy smirked.

"Bitch." Draco smiled, glad that at least one person accepted him. But what about everyone else?

---

After arriving at the Burrow, surviving a few vice-like higs, and unpacking, Harry collapsed on the sofa and closed his eyes. He drifted into a light slumber. In Harry's dream were three chairs. They stood in a line. The outer chairs shifted to face toward the center where Voldemort sat. A skull appeared on one chair, and on the other, a familiar face. A lovely face. A LOVED face.

But before Harry could register whose face it was exactly, He was awakened by two hands pushing at his shoulder. Ginny's face leaned down into Harry's face and with an amount of pertness only a weasley could muster, barked "Happy Birthday Harry!"

"Oh." Harry looked around. Everybody was looking at him.

"Oh? How can you just say oh? It's not everyday you turn seventeen! You're Legal, mate!" Ron announced. Typical that Ron would announce Harry as 'Legal.' Harry smiled wide. Today he could get away from the Durselys for good! Even though he wasn't TECHNICALLY legal in the muggle world, He was legal enough by wizard law. "Anybody up for a game of quidditch?" offered Ron. Several weasley hands shot up in the air and Harry jumped right off the couch with newly found energy. This is what a family was for.

"I'll start cooking!" proclaimed Molly. Today she was going to cook something special for Harry if it wasn't the last day she'd see him alive. Which actaully, was quite possible seeing as how He-who-must-not-be-named was out and about lurking in the dredges of humanity and all.

Considering they didn't really have enough people to play a real game of quidditch, the Weasleys substituted for trying to get the quaffle into goals past other players who would act as keepers. So far Ron was winning. Harry was too used to diving an maneuvering for the golden snitch. The quaffle shot over to George who tossed it past Ron before Ginny retrieved it and threw towards Harry, lobbing it high into the air, forcing Harry to rise into the sunlight to catch it.

As Harry's fingertips brushed the red spheres worn surface, a terrible spasm wrenched Harry's arms back in. Trying to maintain his balance on the broom, Harry fell back as another pang struck him violently in the back. Suddenly, and with a wrenching force, two elegant black and scarlet wings ripped out of Harry's back, twitching to dry, as torn flesh and spurts of blood gushed out. A scream erupted from Harry, Ginny and Hermione's (who had been watching the game from a bench) throats. Lasting only three miniscule seconds, Harry fluttered unconsciously to the beaten ground thirty feet below.

---

A/N: PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! I want to warn you guys, I will NOT be here to update on the dates of June 14-20. I'm volunteering at a camp for disabled kids. Aren't I such a great person? (not really)


	4. History Lesson

Make Me a Match—Chapter 4— History Lesson

Author: Aian Omoi

A/N: GAAH!!!! So…. Haven't updated in a while and I won't do it frequently. Sorry, lots of schedule shit. I'm still focused on this though, don't worry!

Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

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At exactly 4:32 pm, Draco's heart was broken. Matter-of-factly. At 3 o'clock, a ministry official wrote an express memorandum to another official that was intercepted by death eater, who tripped on a sidewalk, which slowed him down until he apparated discreetly to the near taxi stop instead of walking and was driven to an old dump where a single use portkey allowed him access to a headquarters for he-who-must-not-be-named. At 3:38, another death eater woke up from a quick nap, stumbled to get his clothes on after realizing the time, apparated to another dump, looking at the tramp mastiff giving him a curious glare before grabbing a portkey in the shape of a tin can and met the other death eater who shared the memo with him. After a courteous exchange of goodbyes (actually common among them), the second death eater left to floo very quickly to the Malfoy residence. Before reaching the fireplace, was bumped against the wall by another death eater chasing another note in the shape of an origami swan. He reached for the floo bucket at 3:57 and cut his finger on a protruding nail, swearing and shaking his hand he threw some powder into the roaring fire and shouted "Malfoy Manor!" Arriving at a fireplace in Lucius Malfoy's den, he shared the message, which involved an impromptu inspection on suspicion of dark affairs. Nodding, Lucius dismissed him and summoned Draco. Draco knew the drill, and helping his father conceal all the items the ministry might consider, in polite terms, 'distasteful,' including a collection of old Norse rune tablets that evoked a few darker forms of ghouls. After this, Draco proceeded to Blaise's room first before Pansy's to retrieve them for a small game of triwizard chess. Draco opened Blaise's door without knocking.

Now, If any of these things hadn't happened, the official hadn't written express, the note hadn't been intercepted, the death eater didn't trip, he didn't apparate, the other death eater hadn't slept over, had taken his quick nap in his clothes, hadn't looked at the dog, didn't share niceties, wasn't bumped into by another death eater, didn't cut himself, or Draco had gone to Pansy's room first or had knocked on Blaise's door, He would not have seen Blaise's back to him, kissing a picture of Ronald Weasley.

Draco closed the door so Blaise wouldn't notice and ran with tears streaming down his face to Pansy's comforting, motherly embrace.

---

"Where are YOU going?" Elmadora was dressed a smartly chic dress, coming down to just above her knees. A boa of nepaloff fur draped over her bare shoulders and her ebony hair was tied neatly in a bun at the back of her head. Dangling onyx earrings hung from her lobes and sparkled next to their accenting hair clips of obsidian. She had stilettos that HAD to be at least three inches, and her wings her folded gently against her open back. Lyphinnea was curiously leering at her sister over her pink leopard printed reading glasses. She was reading the latest issue of a muggles' magazine, Cook's Illustrated. Sipathae looked up from her seven-deck solitaire, analyzing the situation, before returning to her game. (she was winning.)

"Out. For dinner." Elmadora revealed nothing.

"Where are you going? It's not like we can just go places!" Lyphinnea was jealous.

"A castle." ELMADORA! Ohh….. She was being so stubborn!

"Why? With whom? Can I go?" Lyphinnea was becoming deperate. Elmadora smiled. Elmadora was winning this time.

"Because, No one, and No."

"But if no one else is going, then why can't I come?" Lyphinnea snapped her book shut and pouted. The puppy-dog eyes were coming out this time.

"Because the other person is already there! SO BUTT OUT!" With that, Elmadora swept into the arctic wind, and proceeded to fly across the tundra. Soon she just looked like an out-of-place hawk and the snow bent around her form. After all, who would want to look disheveled when they went out on a date with a vampire elder?

---

"Tell me what happened again." A voice interrupted Harry's haven of darkness, not enough to bring him from the depths at which he rested, but enough to bring him to a more shallow area. He still couldn't identify the voice.

"We were just playing some quidditch, well naturally I wasn't, and I was beckoning Ron over so I could… speak with him for a couple of seconds, so I don't know if he saw it, but THANKFULLY he was coming toward me at the right angle so I could see what happened to Harry because he was right above Ron's head, and so Harry went up to get the quaffle, but he stopped short of grabbing it, he just barely tapped it when those big wings came out of his back and he screamed and someone else screamed, and I don't know if I screamed or not because it was all just so quick and terrifying really, so anyway, then Harry started to fall to the ground quite quickly after he fell off his broom, so George dove down and grabbed him, but I think Harry knocked his head." That was Hermione. Harry did believe she just uttered that with a single breath.

"Yeah, chap knocked his head 'gainst a patch of dirt." George affirmed. Harry could feel his head and his back now. He wished he couldn't. All this chatter was not great, waking him up from his sleep.

"Is it a parasite? Or contagious? Should we quarantine?" Yeah, thanks Ron.

"Oh, no. Far from it. It's extremely rare nowadays, what with poaching for potions and such." That voice, and that chuckle. It was… familiar.

"Oh. I thought it might be that. I wasn't too sure though. I haven't studied them much, Remus. Do you think we should wake him?" Ahh, it was Remus. Now Harry was fully awake and all his bones knew it, grumbling and aching like never before, well, maybe like a few times before all jammed into one crappy package.

"I'm up." Harry opened his eyes. The entire Weasley family, minus Percy, Charlie, and Bill, Hermione, Remus, and even Dumbledore, who had been silent throughout the affair, were all looking at him expectantly, eagerly, and worriedly. For a small moment, Harry had expected to Sirius looking too, with an arm around Remus' waist. Harry shook out the thought as a glass of water was shoved in front of his face.

"You had quite a spill," Understated Remus. "Considering the potency of the situation, Albus'll want to speak to you alone Harry. Ok, out Weasleys! Hermione, you too. Shoo, come on!" Harry sat up against whatever he was leaning against. It turned out to be the couch. He was in the family room. To himself, Harry laughed a little. He could already smell the scent of his favorite meal being prepared by Missus Weasley. As the click of the door to the kitchen sounded in the near empty room, Dumbledore cast a small silencing charm.

"Harry, about twenty-seven years ago, I had a pupil come to me as a young first year. She spoke to me about a small segment in history which I already knew. Thinking she was just trying to tell me a 'did you know?' sort of fact as we passed in the hallway one fine afternoon, I thought nothing of it. She never gave me another. Her ancestry was muggle-based, but her magic was quite potent. She had a lovely smile. She met a boy. Oddly enough, I think she despised him until the Yule ball of their shared fourth year. In her sixth year, she requested of Professor Flitwick, a private lesson in glamours. She was pretty enough, so he didn't think she should need it. She implored that it was not for herself, that it wasn't to be any more beautiful than the next girl. She just needed it with some dire urgency. Prof. Flitwick conceded, and after mastering a long term glamour spell, profusely thanked Prof. Flitwick. She showed great generosity toward him in the rest of her stay at Hogwarts. During her seventh year she skipped class for two days. No one expected of the lovely child and she wasn't penalized. It seemed that she had enchanted the school. After Hogwarts she married the boy and the lived happily for some time."

"You're talking about my mom." Harry could feel a bit of a tear set in to fall at the corner of his eye. Dumbledore spoke with such gentleness and care.

"Yes, Lily Evans. A few years after she left Hogwarts, we expanded our methods of locating inherently magical students. For this, we spread out to include beings such as humanoid half-centaurs, half giants, half-veela, royal elf, day vampires, etc. At first it would locate ALL of the beings, including those past the age of eleven. Though, as we had expected, there were few eligible students, we made an interesting discovery about the Evans family line. You see, all supposedly muggle families that have enough magic to be squibs or students at Hogwarts must have a source for their magic. It could simply be that the magic from a far distant wizard along the line hadn't popped up in a few generations, or that two parents who were magically impotent or inept both had in their ancestors that was strong enough to combine when they gave birth to a child, much like your Miss Granger. So technically, almost every person in the world is a magical person. On the other hand, with the old locator spell, we simply found those magically fit for education at Hogwarts. The old spell didn't describe the origin of the magic. It never mattered. Usually, half-breeds didn't have enough, what we call, 'common magic' to be matriculated. Half-breeds typically had, again what we call, 'specialized magic' which completed tasks without spell for the corresponding race. Vampires and their maximized senses and strength, among others; giants with their brute strength; royal elves with their forge magic and their chants, and other things; Centaurs and their astronomical predictions and possessions; Satyrs and their hypnotic melodies, et cetera. But in the first preliminary stage when we found all of the actual half-breeds, A few Evans family members cropped up. It seemed as though Lily had a significant source, beside some wayward gene-swapping and breeding programs. Harry, you, your mother, your maternal grandfather, both of his parents, and up the line farther and farther than I can recall, have always been, in secrecy, without mention to an inept sow like your Aunt Petunia (a case of poor genetics), veela." Dumbledore blinked a bit after his narrative and took off his glasses and started to polish them. Harry sighed, looked at the ceiling and looked at the old headmaster whom had finished cleaning his spectacles and was now searching Harry's face for a reaction.

"What? Am I supposed to be surprised? I mean, by now I should have racked up enough point for a complimentary mug or a t-shirt or something right?" So typical Potter.

"I suppose so. Lemon drop?" Dumbledore pulled out a bag of candy and the two began to converse as if nothing had happened. This was just another burden Harry carried. But maybe this time... This time, Harry could make the most of it.

---

A/N: PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! To all those who might question: the extend-o-ear penetrated the room, so the silencing charm didn't work. Like… having a jello wall, and then having a straw push through. You can see into the inside (or hear), but you didn't destroy the wall, and without the straw, you can't hear. SO….. How was that? A longer and more academic chapter than I usually write. Ah well… I hope you have fun with it! --Aian Omoi


	5. Bookshop Rendezvous

Make Me a Match—Chapter 5— Bookshop Rendezvous

Author: Aian Omoi

A/N: Enjoy?

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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"Pansy, have you noticed anything strange about Draco? I mean… When he looks at me, it's like he wants to say something, or he's depressed. Actually, it's fairly annoying. Every time I try to talk to him he gives me one-word answers. " Blaise and Pansy sat outside, relaxing next to the 42,000 gallon pool. Pansy had pulled up a reflector screen to tan her face. Vain, yes, but quite necessary. Blaise was rubbing tanning lotion on his upper arm, while lying on his side on the chaise pool chair. Pansy sighed and grimaced at the thought of one of her best friends liking a WEASLEY. The sun shone brightly down on them and back a few hundred yards, the two could just make out the figure of two nepaloff trees galloping away at the sight of the imposing manor.

"I don't think there's anything strange about Drake. I mean, he's always been weird. Maybe he's just upset because we have to go to Hogwarts in a week and deal with Potter. I don't know." Slytherins and their lying…. Pansy turned back to the screen, lifting her chin a little. A little breath escaped her lips. Blaise shifted his side a little, watching a few finches spin around in the air.

"Ok." Brushing it off as if there really wasn't anything wrong with Draco, Blaise stood up, and dove into the pool, purposely splashing Pansy. She squealed and threw the screen at his head when he bobbed back up. As the two laughed, Draco stood at a window watching, instead of reading up on vampires as his father wanted him to. Ever since Draco saw that photo and Blaise, life just wasn't the same. There was this disgusting nagging feeling Draco had when he opened up the books to the mate chapter or when he thought of Blaise in a new blazer, and then always the thought of that annoying Potter, being less annoying somehow, which just drove Draco nuts. He decided it was a new irritating ploy by the golden boy. Honestly, what the hell was up with his trite campaign to get everybody to love him?

---

Halfway across the world, a dark red wine from the 1700s was uncorked and poured into two crystal glasses. The woman sighed as the lovely perfume of the wine reached her and the man sat down across the iron bistro table. The setting was intimate: candlelight, enchanted chamber music, a nondescript tune, roasted lamb and fine Bordeaux. The man spoke about growing up in ancient Iceland, being turned, visiting the world for years: Arabia, Rome, Feudal Japan; learning from other clans in Italy and Mongolia, rising to glory in battles of antiquity, and eventually, raised to elder of his clan, before surviving endless hunts from mortals and wizards, signing treaty after treaty to end the genocide. He spoke of how the two of them were quite similar, he the lighter side of the dark, she the darker side of the light, how it really was a tragedy they could never really meet until now from their duties and affairs to their respective clans. He spoke and she listened. She dined and he gazed from under his lashes. She looked out the window, he gawked at her neck. As the night drew to a close, she whispered a sweet nothing in his ear, and he kissed her hand lightly. She left his castle a silent fortress and flew away from the crags and rocky highlands. He leaned out toward her direction and went to write in his journal, noting her every move with care. She looked back toward the citadel. She'd return.

---

Harry stood looking at the mirror. Two emerald eyes stared back at him. Two ebony wings twitched at his side. Two scarlet streaks ran through them. Harry sighed and put a glamour on them to last about a day and a half.

"Another day in the life of the Golden Boy." Harry muttered to himself, buttoning his shirt and throwing his vest over, complimenting his tight black jeans. He opened the bathroom door and walked down the hall, turning to go down the stairs to the Weasleys' dining room. Molly greeted him with a smile that showed a bit of her concern for him. She'd expressed a certain amount of worry for her almost-son's new… acquirement. With a plate of hotcakes and eggs in hand, complete with bacon, sausage, and home fries. It was definitely too much for Harry, but he tried his best at eating the feast with Hermione and Ron. The conversation was strained and difficult. Though the wings were under a glamour and tucked tight into Harry's back, you could still feel them. They just weren't noticeable. Today the Trio would go shopping for school supplies at Diagon Alley. Probably one of the usual highlights of Harry's summer, but he sort of dreaded it this time. Like, what if the glamour wore off, or some crazed teenage fan tried to touch him, or some death eaters popped out of nowhere (as they usually did)? But of course, there was nothing to worry about. They shopped around for trinkets and fun things before starting in on their serious shopping. Ron and Harry had grown a bit so all their robes seemed to be a bit short. The shop of choice was Madam Malkin's.

And upon entering Madam Malkin's for such, they spotted a sharp ponytail, some straight dark locks, and slicked platinum hair with their backs turned. Ron sneered, Hermione looked pious and upright, but Harry was panting heavily. His palms began to sweat and his concealed wings twitched.

"Quick, let's go." whispered Harry. He turned to leave.

"Why? We have as much right to be here, I reckon, and I'm not obliged to move." RON! Ugh… Hermione would be far more rational.

"I don't want to start anything… confrontational in public." Harry was getting nervous. What made him so afraid of going near Malfoy of all people? What was so great about him?

"Come on Ron. Harry? Are you wearing anything?" Hermione asked as they exited the shop.

"Uh. Clothes?" The three headed down the street toward the bookshop where most of their texts would be.

"No, I mean… Oh never mind." She shook her head. Then she smiled. Then she looked at Harry. Then she laughed. Hermione only laughed like that with the sharp squeal at the beginning that trickled into a sort of contented chuckle when she knew something nobody else did. Which, frankly, was often, hence how Hermione tended to be happy most of the time. They walked into the shop and quickly located the appropriate textbooks and then used up a few minutes perusing the shelves. Harry began to look for a book about Veela. He found plenty of literature, discounting ANYTHING by Lockhart, and headed over to the cashier with his bag of galleons, even though his fame could have easily gotten the books for free. But that would be taking an advantage…

"Well I'm just saying, Asians like the Cho chick are cute! But she's a ravenclaw so it doesn't matter." Harry knew that voice. Blaise Zabini, kind of short but good looking. Italian. Slytherin. Fairly cunning, rumored to be bi-curious. Harry Potter knew the dirt.

"Mmm. Ravenclaw. Kinky." He knew that one too. Pansy Parkinson, tall for a girl, Welsh. Slytherin. Pretty smart, rumored to be with Malfoy. A man walked up in line behind Harry. Hermione and Ron walked over to Harry, with bags in their hands, having already bought their supplies.

"We're heading over to the Artsy Apothecary for lunch. I wanted a salad, and you KNOW the Leaky Cauldron can't mix greens to save their lives. We'll meet you there, ok?" He nodded curtly. At least Malfoy hadn't come in so the chance of the group trying to start a fight was at a minimum.

"I don't think so. I prefer something less exotic. A guy. That's just a guy. " Malfoy. That was Malfoy. Harry had spoken too soon. The content of his little blurb had completely escaped Harry, who was reduced to trying to blend in with the line.

"The chances of finding someone that's gay and is Manly or a guy is next to none. I mean seriously. Are you kidding?"

"That's why I have to take a straight man and make him gay. Duh, Pansy. That's the only way you get a keeper."

"Not like you'd keep them anyway."

"You never know!" Harry twitched. His leg had a small spasm. Malfoy was gay. Legit gay. FANTASTIC! Something to destroy him with when he tried to start something in the corridors.

"Next…" The dour, sad looking man motioned for Harry to come forward. He brightened considerably at the sight of the Golden Boy, however a began several attempts to try some small talk. Harry tried to move the process along as fast as he could so that he could leave. Three against one did NOT sound like an enjoyable prospect to Harry. Thanking the aggravating little man quickly, Harry turned to leave the shop. Unfortunately, Harry was so out of sorts by then, which was quite unusual, that his wings gave a violent paroxysm and sent it stretching its four feet out in the direction of a display stand, consequently knocking it over and making an incredibly embarrassed Harry James Potter stride out of the store quickly.

"Hey Potter!" Fuck. Harry turned. He saw the troublesome trio looking at him. Blaise had disgust, Pansy had boredom, Malfoy had something else. "Isn't the Saviour going to clean up his mess?"

"I didn't.. I mean, I… What? I didn't touch it?"

"The stand, idiot." Malfoy had a sneer across his face. It seemed strained today. Like something else was bothering him too. Harry let out a breath that seemed too guttural to be a sigh, but too light to be groan or a growl. Without his wand, Harry flicked his hand toward the stand from a foot outside of the shop and watched as it put itself back together. That magic was incredibly simple but it seemed to come from somewhere else. Not the usual place from his mind from his wand or something. Harry didn't contemplate this much though.

"Happy? Why can't you leave me alone for ONE day? Fuck YOU, Draco!" Harry yelled and stalked off, causing several people to brush themselves out of the angered teen's way. For his part, Draco seemed stunned.

---

"Why didn't HE get a howler from the ministry?" Pansy asked as they looked for their textbooks.

"He's Harry god damn Potter!" Blaise was soooooo on top of shit today.

"I don't see why he called me Draco. He never calls me Draco." Draco found a new book on vampires he hadn't read. He took all the Lockhart ones he could find and discreetly shoved them in the trashcans. Pansy smiled at the gesture. For once, Harry did something he couldn't figure out. He used magic when he wasn't supposed to, wandless magic in fact, called him Draco when he commonly refers to him as Malfoy, and he would've left the store a mess, which was unbecoming of a Gryffindor. Nothing he did fit the perfect picture, the Golden stereotype. And when he was angry, Harry Potter was awfully dark. Draco likey… Of course not enough to say anything. Just enough to attribute THAT to the 'oh-let's-all-fuck-Potter-because-he's-our-saviour' label. Especially since Potter was NOT as hot as Blaise at the moment, biting his lip, trying to remember which edition he was supposed to buy.

"It's that one, honey." Draco Malfoy just used a pet name. The sky is falling. He pointed to the one in Blaise's left hand, as Draco was on his right. In the process, he brushed Blaise's chest, feeling him through the shirt's fabric. Smooth.

"Oh thanks." Blaise was a rock. Draco laughed to himself, Potter forgotten, though for some reason. Draco hadn't gotten a single bit of enjoyment out of tormenting him today like he usually did. Not that that was going to stop him though. But right now all that mattered was the Italian next to him in a bookshop with the nagging feeling of wanting to rip the head off of that Weasley.

---

As Harry stormed away, dark thoughts of Draco entered his mind. Distracted, he walked faster, ignoring the scared glances of people walking by. A butterfly flitted across Harry's path, pausing in front of his face. Harry thought it flew over his head and away to some nectarous flower, but really it had disintegrated in a burst of flame, a puff of smoke no one noticed. Harry was angry, and what was making him far more irate was the thought that he was mad at himself instead of Draco. By time he had reached the Artsy Apothecary, Harry wanted to leave and go somewhere alone, which the Order would never allow.

"So," began Hermione as Harry sat down, trying to smooth back an invisible wing. "Malfoy's gay." Harry paused. Hermione had left the shop before Malfoy had come in, unless they passed in the street and heard him. A waitress walked up. Harry ordered a Shirley Temple.

"How'd you know? I just overheard him in the bookshop." Ron looked pale, as if he had just seen a spider in his smoothie.

"I knew at Madam Malkin's." That really didn't explain anything except the trademark I-know-something-you-don't-know laughter. Ron sneered.

"Just another thing to hate him for." muttered Ron.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry was appalled. He never really considered himself a homophobe at all. When he met Cho, he liked her. Even Ginny, but somewhere along his sixth year, it clicked. Harry didn't like girls. It all really made sense: broken household, no constant strong male influence, bad relationships with girls, etc. Harry could find them attractive, just not… strikingly eye-catching. He'd told Hermione, but Ron didn't have such a great streak with taking that sort of news. This was worse though. This time, Harry felt it as an attack on him.

"Nothing, I mean, Malfoy's gay. Something to rub in his face. You know, when he calls me a weasel or something." Ron gave Harry a look like it was painfully obvious. The waitress walked up again. Hermione ordered for them all, as the two argued. Today wasn't such a fantastic day for Harry.

"Right, so if I told you I was gay, you wouldn't be my friend? You'd go around calling me a fag? Is that how it is? You'd just flame me or something?"

"Harry, you are being quite irrational." Hermione: always the motherly type. Ron had his mouth open. A fly almost buzzed in. Harry Potter was defending Draco Malfoy. The sky IS falling.

"I'm not being irrational. Ron's the one hating on people for shit they can't help, don't want to help, shit that just is. Do you think I WANT to be straight, gay, in between? NO. Shit just fuckin' happens, 'k?" Harry whipped a cigarette out of his vest pocket. He'd started smoking two weeks ago. Illegally, of course. He was only seventeen.

"When did you start smoking?"

"Never mind THAT. So are we friends Ron? Or are gonna go around bad mouthing me?" Harry tried very unsuccessfully to light the cigarette, before the cancer stick lit itself up with another burst of flame. Everyone thought he just lit it properly.

"Uh… Um. Er… You're gay?" Ron was a fucking rock.

"No shit." Harry took a drag of the cigarette and waited a moment.

"So… you don't like… like me, right?"

"No, asshole."

"Oh. Uh… Yeah. We're cool. Just don't hit on me or anything."

"You're ugly, Ron."

"Oh. Hermione likes me." Ron obviously felt the need to defend himself. Hermione found the entire spat humorous. Harry and the others drank their liquids for a bit before the waitress came with their entrees. Hermione had ordered Harry exactly what he wanted at the moment. A heavier pizza with cream cheese instead of sauce, chicken, spinach, roasted garlic, bacon, parmesan, romano and mozzarella and tomatoes.

"How'd you know he was gay?" Harry was down-trodden. The sentence lacked zeal and energy. It was lifeless.

"I knew at Madam Malkin's." She took a bite of her cranberry and walnut salad with raspberry vinaigrette. Harry stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and sighed.

"You said that." said Harry. Ron was keeping quiet. Smart.

"Well. Because you like him." Hermione became incredibly fascinated by her spinach leaf and Ron got up from the table to go to the bathroom as Harry sat in shock. What's worse is that he knew she was right.

---

A/N: PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! UGH…. I HATE LOCKHART! Could you tell? Should I change the second genre to humor? I have it as general… but I feel that that's too… general. BTW: I have had that particular pizza. IT IS DELICIOUS!!!! It's called Chicken Rockefeller and you can ONLY get it at the Moose's Tooth in Anchorage, Alaska. SOOOOO GOOD.


	6. Merlin and Jesus the Christ

Make Me a Match—Chapter 6— Merlin and Jesus the Christ

Author: Aian Omoi

A/N: Oh god, I've been out of touch forever. SOOOO SORRY!!!! Like… seriously. I'm pathetic. Hahhahaha. Anyway, a little lime/lemon in this chap. No flames. Be prepared. Don't like? Don't read! Anyway (again), I was out volunteering for that camp again, and then in maine for my deceased grandpa's memorial, which was incredibly LOVELY. He hated funerals so it was one of those "celebration of life thingies." I got to see family members that I hadn't seen in a while and one of my mom's step brothers (the other is in iraq) and her step sister, that I had never met before because some crisis 12 years ago or what have you, so now it's like I gained three new relatives! YAY! I love my aunt!!! Hahahha. Anyway, yeah…. Enough about ME, on with the smut!

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

* * *

"I don't like him!" Harry denied, unable to think. His mind was a jumble. Did he like Draco Malfoy? Were his reactions to the platinum blonde youth horribly characteristic of someone that was in love? He didn't think he was. He was just trying to avoid a confrontation.

"Yes, you are. Open up that book you bought." Harry gave her a frown and a grimace, muttering incomprehensible gibberish about how she didn't know anything for being so smart. Harry reached down into the plastic merchandise bag and pulled out a stack of books, returning all except one. Hermione leant over the table and snatched it out of Harry's hands.

"I think I know how to look stuff up, thanks." Today was going to be the death of Harry. All these stressors he really didn't deserve. He felt like a substandard human, like someone everyone else decided was their welcome mat to walk over. Hermione flipped through the pages, occasionally sipping from her drink. Harry whipped out another cigarette, trying to calmly light it this time. He was successful. Ron returned, looking a little woozy as he sat down, proclaiming that he wasn't hungry anymore.

"This really isn't that cool, honestly." Ron was looking at Harry. Harry knew he'd be friends, but if Harry would realize he was at least slightly attracted to the Slytherin or Hermione found whatever she was looking for, there wasn't much hope for Ron to be friends with Malfoy.

"Ha! I'm right, you're wrong. Who's the smartest? I'm the smartest!" Hermione turned the book around and passed it across the table to Harry, as she did her GOD!-I'm-so-fucking-smart dance. "You like him, and only he won't know. Ha! Cuz you are SOOOOO obvious Harry." She sat back smugly, eating the last bites of her salad. Harry sat defeated. The passage she talked pointed out was brief but to the point. It said something about pheromones and anxiety attacks and blah blah blah… Harry really didn't need this at the time.

"Fine," Another drag of the cigarette. "You better be nice to him." He pointed at Ron. "Fuck my life. Do we have everything? I'm going." Harry grabbed his bags and tossed the cigarette (still lit) into the ashtray before disapparating out of the restaurant and into his and Ron's room at the Weasleys'. He undressed himself and, though it could've lasted longer, shook off the glamour before climbing into his bed, tightly wrapping himself in the bedclothes and drifting into a slumber. After he fell asleep, Harry's mouth parted ever so slightly and he began to drool.

---

Draco walked into the parlor of the Malfoy mansion, humming some listless tune and wondering how best to mention to blaise the he liked him. The trouble with this was that the inept kid just seemed to be so smitten the grungy red-headed shit, and Draco was completely desperate, no matter how many times he reminded himself that Malfoys were never desperate. Reclining on a chaise lounge, Draco drifted to sleep. In his dream were seven chairs, holding four men, a centaur, a veela, and a vampire. There were no apparent signs to distinguish the vampire from the other four men, but as always in dreams, this information was simply present.

All seven beings were arguing, biting out words of malice. It was an extremely heated discussion, the vampire was denouncing something that three of the men were upholding, the veela was trying to cut into the disagreement, the fourth man held his head in his lap in despair, and the centaur stared straight out to Draco. A sound like a crystal chandelier falling from the ceiling and shattering before them erupted bodiless from nowhere, and suddenly the action, and the upraised fists, and the caustic tongues slowed almost to a stop. Except the centaur, who rose from his rest on the large chair (to accommodate his form), and strode majestically past Draco. As the other beings continued to argue in an impossibly sluggish pace, Draco turned to see where the centaur had gone. Upon turning, Draco was met with no view of any centaur, but of a human form in a valley of blossoming lilies and camellias, and other flowers, both wild and rare cultivars. Before Draco could discern the form of the human he saw, which gave some strange feeling of desire and loneliness in his heart, Draco felt a hand come down roughly on his shoulder. Draco turned to look up and his eyes met those large orbs of the centaur he had seen earlier, standing next to him now.

"The moon glows bright, smote by daylight in the even' of autumn too. But careful tread, over valley dead, or caught in it are you." The cryptic chant of the centaur was the only sound draco heard, as a sort of keening noise rattled the bones in his body. Turning again to look at the form in the valley, there only remained a snow-covered wood. The snow, however, was stained red by corpses of humans, notably wizards. Some bore no faces, and others were lying face down. Draco drew in a deep breath quickly, shock running through his nerves, as he started hyperventilating and, spinning around, he was only met with more bodies and woods strewn about haplessly, yet in a particularly abnormal pattern. Draco closed his eyes for a minute second trying to calm himself down. Recovering, he knelt down next to one of the bodies that was turned over, and flipped it to inspect the cause of death. Draco froze, unable both to drop the body to do anything else. The body had Draco's face, and even while he looked at it in desperate horror, its face changed to resemble Blaise's, then and somehow more frighteningly, Harry Potter's face. Draco felt tears sting his cheek with the warmth that the cold air sapped from him. Either miraculously or disgustingly, the corpse reached up and wiped away the tear with a single "Don't cry." Before all the other corpses started to pet Draco. Almost to comfort him, but Draco's senses, being on edge, took at as some insane malicious attempt to bring him to their death with them. He screamed and screamed, unable to breathe as the spent air in his lungs caught in his throat.

Then he woke up. "GET OFFA ME!!!" Draco knew he was at his home, but the hands were still brushing past his face.

"Draco! Shh. Stay still! Shh! It's just a dream. A dream. Shh…" The hands were Blaise's. Draco calmed down and stared at the dark Italian in front of him. Blaise wiped away his tears and leant down to hold Draco. Draco resolved to have more nightmares. Even so, Blaise released Draco with a small hint of a blush and brushed himself off.

"I won't tell anyone." Draco didn't really care at the moment. He really only wanted Blaise's broad body against his own. Draco felt so embarrassed though, and all the emotive stress just placed on him broke through, crumpling Draco in a massive heap of jelly. Really though, it wasn't fair that Draco should feel like this. He was a Malfoy! What do malfoys do in uncomfortable situations? Make people feel more uncomfortable than they do!

"You're gay." It wasn't even a question. Plus, it needed to be said anyway. You know, clear up all that shit. Blaise paled considerably though before changing to a luscious shade of red.

"You don't know." Right. Probably the best remark to that statement.

"As if." Draco was feeling a little better, but now he felt like some scum for just blurting that out blatantly. At least no one else was in the room.

"I'm not gay. You're gay."

"You don't know."

"As if."

"Honestly?"

"What? Think you can just spy on everyone Draco and NOT think other people have dirt on you?"

"I'm not. If I were, I wouldn't have told anyone."

"Except Pansy." Blaise stated with a cheeky smirk.

"Kinky Bitch."

"See?"

"Well, you like Weasel."

"Yeah. Right. And you want Dumbledore to chain you up." Blaise was really good at this. Not a blush or the lightening of his face. No twitch or hitch in voice. If Draco hadn't seen the photo with his own two eyes, he would've thought that Blaise really DIDN'T like Weasley.

"I saw the photo." NOW blaise blanched. He sat down (nearly missing Draco's feet) harshly and put his head in his hands.

"Don't tell anyone Draco. PLEASE! Just PLEASE don't tell anyone. I don't want my parents to hate me. They barely pay enough attention to me anyway. Oh my god. You. Don't hate me. Seriously. You're like the only one I'm friends with. You're like… a brother. A shitty one, but still. I'll… I don't know. I'll do anything. Well… not anything. But don't tell. PLEASE." Draco smirked. Blaise was his now. He owned him.

"Anything?" Draco's eyebrow arched, nearly imperceptibly. Blaise jumped up from his seat.

"Scratch that part. I'll do a few things." Blaise backed up a few steps.

"Kiss me." Blaise's eyes went wide and his jaw fell a bit, until a fit of laughter burst out of his mouth and he had to sit down again. Draco was not amused.

"You? You… want ME? Want ME to kiss… kiss YOU? OH MY FUCKING GOD…. MERLIN AND JESUS THE CHRIST"

"Shut up. Stop laughing. I just want to see if the weasel deserves you or not."

"Oh. Yeah. RIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT…" Blaise continued laughing hysterically and showed no signs of stopping. Having had enough for today, Draco lifted himself of the lounge fluidly and, grabbing the collar of blaise's shirt, roughly forced his lips on the Italian. Blaise soon stopped smiling, and gasping just enough against Draco's mouth, their tongues met, rolling between them. Draco's hands let go of Blaise's collar and his fingertips flowed down Blaise's shirt, massaging his chest and pecs. Blaise tilted his head a little to deepen the affection between them as Draco's body pressed harder against him. Draco moaned quietly hungrily devouring his crush, while laying him down against the lounge and completely pressing himself against Blaise who (not complaining) had allowed Draco to unbutton his shirt. Breaking the kiss, Draco's (talented) mouth ventured to one of the medium dark nipples on Blaise's chest covered in a light mat of hair, swirling his tongue round and round before nibbling ever so lightly on the peaks. Blaise moaned erotically as his hands went down to Draco's soft ass, feeling him though the fabric of his pants. Draco shivered and moaned, arching his back a little, and, in the process, grinding his rock hard erection against Blaise's. Both boys grunted a little before enveloping each other's mouths. Draco reached between them, pinching Blaise's other nipple before coming down to his belt, where Blaise stopped him, having regained his senses, breaking the kiss to speak.

"Stop Draco. Stop."

"Why?"

"I did it. All you said was a kiss. There you go. You know as well as I do, this'll go nowhere. Especially when I like Ron. Sorry Draco. Ok? I mean… You're really hot and everything. Fucking hot, really, but it's a little weird. You're my best friend."

"I don't want to be your friend. I want you to love me."

"Love is for the weak. Malfoy motto number two."

"Fuck my dad."

"Your whole family."

"Shut up."

"Draco. Get off of me." Blaise looked flushed and a tad bit angry. Draco complied, lifting himself off enough so that he was left straddling blaise's waist as he buttoned Blaise's shirt up, still keeping their mostly erect pelvic regions together.

"ALL the way off."

"fine." Draco got off and Blaise stood up, straightening his clothes and running a hand through his hair.

"Draco, I love you as a brother, but I can't love you as something more. There's no place for that. We don't mix. Just try to understand that."

"I'm not letting you go."

"THAT was so tacky. If you want to fall in love with someone, get some new lines. Tea is in five." With that, Blaise ascended the staircase to his bedroom, leaving Draco a quivering mess, with a broken heart.

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A/N: PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! Oh my god…. Poor blaisey… anyway, review!!! A LOT! Cuz I miss you guys!


	7. Sleeping on the Train

Make Me a Match—Chapter 7— Sleeping on the Train

Author: Aian Omoi

A/N: *Creeps in slowly… notices you're looking.* :[ Um…. Hi guys? Are you really angry at me? Yeah….. I know I haven't put ANYTHING up in forever. Shit gets in the way, you know? And then I have to go back and read all that shit I posted, because I forget where I'm going. :[ hahahahha, well anyway, let's get on with the smut! :]

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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A few days past the Blaise incident, it was the morning of September first, time to board the regal red train that would bring them from King's Cross station all the way to Hogwarts. Having gathered all his bags, and such, Draco was ready to leave the Manor. He really actually couldn't wait for the term to start. Draco had had enough of summertime and wanted some distraction from Blaise. At the moment, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at a large mirror, wondering how hard it would be with his vampirism. A house elf cracked in at that moment and told Draco that the chauffeur would be there in a few minutes to take them to the station. Draco nodded and joined Blaise and Pansy downstairs in the large atrium.

---

Harry had been silent for a few days, thinking about Draco. Maybe it was time they made up and became friends. Or more than friends. If Harry thought about it, really, Draco HAD offered a friendship back in first year, and Harry HAD screwed that up by being friends with Ron. Not that being friends with Ron was bad or anything, but Harry could've had two friends at the point, three now, if he'd just said, "maybe there's two sides?". The more he thought about it though, the less Harry wanted to be friends, and the more he wanted lay against the Blonde for even just a moment, and breathe deeply before sliding his hand up to Draco's chest while Draco ran his hands through Harry's hair. The more he thought about that, the more Harry wanted Draco to kiss him. It was sad though: Harry knew it probably wouldn't happen at all. Today though, was the day to go to Hogwarts, which normally was one of the most exciting days of his year, but for some reason, there wasn't too much spirit in it. Harry could only think of the amount of time he'd spend bickering with Malfoy, which didn't excite him at all. With all their trunks together and neatly stacked to be shrunk into the trunk of the Weasley's new car. (courtesy of the twins' profits from the joke shop)

"Dears!!! Time to get going!" yelled Molly from the ground floor of the Burrow. With a flick of her wand, Molly Weasley summoned all of the children's bags and trunks and cages and levitated them into the car. Harry sighed heavily, and, putting on a glamour, which was the only spell the ministry would allow during the summer for him, he traipsed down the stairs, too gracefully for a human, and seated himself in the car, before resigning himself to nap.

After an hour's ride, the Weasley entourage arrived at the station, where Mr. Weasley unshrunk the trunks and such surreptitiously to avoid the questioning of any muggles and escorted them to platform 9 ¾. Upon arrival at the crimson train, Harry scanned the entire populace for Draco. Spotting him down the platform, Harry quickly boarded with barely a good-bye to his surrogate family and found a quiet compartment, figuring that his friends would eventually find him. For even a brief second, Harry wanted some peace of mind, preparing himself for avoiding a blonde for a whole year.

Just when Harry closed his eyes and started to breathe in a regular pattern, he heard a huge slam and opened his eyes to see the back of a certain Draco Malfoy.

"Dr-Malfoy! What are you doing here?!" Harry sat up quickly, drawing his legs in and curling up into a small ball on the seat.

"Be quiet for a second, Potter. Damn it, I'm trying to hide for a second. Stupid Draco. Had to pick the only compartment with fucking Harry potter in it!"

"Sorry." Harry felt so stupid. First, he doesn't do anything about the invasion of privacy from Draco. Second, he apologized for doing nothing. And third, Harry was starting to get really emotional. He hadn't any idea of what to do. Like, should he kick Draco out, or should he ask him to stay? Should he apologize again (for what?), or should he just be quiet? My god, Harry was just a mess. All the stress of keeping his veela self from showing and secretly liking Draco Malfoy, and then having Draco still hate him. "…Draco? Do you remember first year before the sorting?"

"When you said that you'd rather be friends with impoverished weasels?" Harry ignored the rude statement as Draco turned around to face Harry, who looked away, not wanting to meet Draco's expression.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. Well, I'm not really sorry, because I'm friends with Ron and everything, but I'm sorry I was an ass like that to you."

"Apology not accepted." Draco turned back to face the compartment door, checking for Blaise, expecting some insult from Harry.

"Yeah." Harry bit his lip and laid back against the train's wall, glancing briefly at Draco's ass, before closing his eyes, hoping to get a small bit of rest. Draco paused for a moment and locked the door, figuring they'd be safe from Blaise at the moment. He sat down on the large seat across from Harry.

"Why did you care about first year anyway? I hardly remember it." Draco looked at Harry, for once realizing that Harry had gotten rid of his ugly lanky structure and taken on more of a build over this summer.

"You remembered that night," replied Harry without opening his eyes. Uncomfortable, Harry turned on his side, away from Draco and shrugged off his hoodie, which normally would've uncovered his wings had it not been for the glamour. Harry heard a small gasp, which he assumed was from Draco and thought nothing of it, until Draco spoke.

"You have wings." It wasn't a question at all. Harry's head whipped around incredibly fast, first checking his back (he couldn't see anything besides air, like a glamour is supposed to do), then staring at Draco's pale, shocked face. Harry felt an anxiety attack coming on, but with the adrenaline hitting, he thought nothing of it.

"I don't have any wings! What are YOU on, Draco?" Harry decided to play it cool, act as if Draco were crazy.

"What do you mean? Right there!" Draco, astounded so much by this, he forgot it was Harry "the-fucking-golden-boy" Potter, and grabbed Harry's right wing with the intent to show him. Harry thought it was the most luxurious touch he'd felt, like the softest cashmere or the silkiest chocolate truffle down his throat, and closing his eyes, hummed a brief sonorous note before realizing what was happening. He jumped up into the air like he'd been kicked in the butt and jumped on Draco, straddling him. He needed to end this. Draco needed to not tell anyone. This wouldn't work at all.

"I have NO WINGS." Harry pointed a threatening finger at Draco's beautiful face, resisting the urge to stroke it. Draco, for the most part had no idea what was going on, only that he was on his back on a seat in a train with Harry Potter straddling him and lying.

"Yeah, Yeah you do. I can see those things coming right out of your back!" Harry frowned, which for some reason, annoyed Draco a little.

"NO! I HAVE NO NO NO NO NO WINGS! GET IT? GOT IT? GOOD!" Harry let out a large huff of air and leaned back, still straddling the poor Malfoy heir.

"You look tired." Draco didn't know if it was just him, but Harry looked really tired, and Draco was feeling very nice, especially since he knew something he could use as dirt against Harry, although it felt more like their cute little playground secret rather than gossip fodder.

"No. Yes. Yeah." Harry rubbed his face before leaning down against Draco's fine swimmer's body at the beckoning of a pale finger.

"Why don't you go to sleep, then." Draco took out his wand slowly and whispered a sleeping charm in Harry's ear which forced the little Veela into a nice slumber. Draco sat there a moment, oddly taking some delight in the Golden Boy's hand resting on Draco's chest, and his chin that fell nicely into the crook of his neck. Perfect is the word that came briefly to his mind. Then Draco freaked out. Of course, Malfoys never PUBLICLY freak out: they're much too civilized, they freak out in their head.

Malfoy? Potter? Together? NO. If Draco's father found out, he'd be ruined! COMPLETELY ruined! TOTAL destruction. Extricating himself as softly as he could, Draco got up, unruffled his shirt, wrote a quick note on a piece of paper, which he tucked into Harry's shirt (brushing his collarbone casually…) went to leave. That is, just as he opened the compartment door, he was met with Hermione and Ron's startled faces.

"What're you doing Malfoy?" Draco sneered slightly.

"Leaving."

"What'd you do to Harry. Shit! You bloody killed him! Look 'Mione, He's dead!"

"He's asleep, stupid weasel. We had a chat. Now I'm leaving," Draco shook his head like Ron was some poor charity case and stepped by the pair before heading down to the prefect's meeting, as head boy. "Prefect's in five, Granger."

Hermione swallowed a little and walked into the compartment quickly after Ron. They stared awkwardly for a minute after they realized Harry was, in fact, still breathing. Harry was curled up in a little ball, smiling like a baby while he was dreaming. It was a little strange, and he wouldn't wake up until they arrived at Hogwarts. Hermione and Ron had passed the time by making out and talking, but Draco had suffered the entire time after the prefect's meeting with boring conversation with Blaise and Pansy. Draco really didn't know what to do anymore. There was Blaise, and trying to get him away from Ron, or there was Harry, who ceased to be Potter in his head, and might have some attraction reciprocated. The trouble was hating him for so long! What to do when suddenly they become someone you love.

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A/N: PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! I wanted them to snuggle… :] but that wouldn't really happen. :[


	8. Confessional

Make Me a Match—Chapter 8— Confessional

Author: Aian Omoi

A/N: Satan's day-job: distracting authors from their stories with the inevitable occurrences of life. I'm really sorry guys! :[ well anyway, here's the next installment. I feel like this story will be a long one. Hahahha. Wow… Kinda a short chapter, but I hope I'll be at a point where I can continue updating. I'm really sorry about the inconsistency in my uploads. :[

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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Arriving at Hogwarts, Harry woke up to two pairs of eyes grilling him.

"Wha-? Whachoo lookin' at?" A groggy Harry questioned. That seven hour nap was probably the most sleep Harry had had in a long time.

"You. We're here. We saw Draco." Hermione replied, filling him in on the basics.

"So?"

"He said you guys had a chat. Malfoy never uses the word chat. Maybe argument or debate or epic battle or verbal jousting or disagreement, but NEVER chat. What happened? Do you think he was imperio'd?" Harry was pretty much awake now, except an annoying itch on his chest. Upon scratching it, he realized it was a small folded note. Not wanting his friends to know there was a note, Harry ignored it for the moment.

"Nah. Doubt it. Why would anybody need to imperio that ferret." Ron said distastefully.

"You think we might've judged him? Like we don't really know him?" It was if Harry were trespassing on private property with twenty packs of C-4. Ron almost choked on his tongue.

"Whoa, Harry. I know YOU like him, Harry, but seriously?"

"Hey… Don't judge? Lol."

"Did you just exactly say 'lol'?"

"Umm… Hey! Look: er… time to get off." Blushing, Harry rushed out of the compartment as fast he could to recover his trunk and cage (Hedwig preferred to take quarter in the owlery car). Rushing out off the train, Harry retrieved the note from inside his shirt and unfolded it as he walked briskly toward the carriages. He found one with only a single occupant: Luna Lovegood. Her wandering mind seemed appropriate at this moment for some reason, and her reputation as a virgin lesbian made Harry comfortable being gay. Fortunately, she wouldn't have been able to see his note, and as he looked down to read the contents found that it only read, "Tonight: Kitchen. No One Else." Harry was quite confused and ruminated for the entire ride to Hogwarts on all the scenarios that could play out tonight. Visions from ambushed death to sweet confessions were prancing around in Harry's brain, giving little respite to his weary soul.

In fact, even when Harry met up again with Ron and Hermione, upset that he had ditched them, but forgiving, he still didn't pay much attention to the goings on around him. He sat stoic throughout the sorting ceremony and didn't have a single glass of pumpkin juice during the opening feast, which was how he always celebrated the first night of his home away from hell. Occasionally, Harry would come back down to earth to glance over at Draco, who maintained an austere disposition, only ever glancing back when Harry pretended to look away, and then turning rapidly to talk to his friends. Harry only saw Draco glance at Harry once, as if it were a reminder of their about-to-be confidential meeting.

After the night's festivities, the Gryffindor trio trekked up to the Fat Lady, awaiting the new riddle for this week. Hermione stepped forward to give the answer to the classic "Password!"

"Napaloff Tree!!"

The residents of the Gryffindor tower climbed in through the hole the Fat Lady left and began making themselves at home, enjoying the comforts of the cozy common room and settling their trunks and other possessions. In all the hubbub, Harry simply collapsed on his bed and took a nap.

-----

"Pansy? I know you really suck at keeping secrets, but this time… Just this once, I need you to keep it for me. Can you do that?" Draco had gotten Pansy alone in Draco's personal sleeping quarters in the dungeon-esque abode of the Slytherin lair. Pansy reclined on his bed while Draco sat in a comfortable maroon recliner: the only item that wasn't green, black or silver. The actual silver had been discarded from his room, but he couldn't bare it without at least the accenting color. Pansy twirled her feet off the side of the bed, her flats making an annoying slapping sound that Draco tolerated. A basin of rosewater lay next to Draco on a stand and Draco began fidgeting with the petals of the roses while he waited for Pansy's answer through the long pause.

Finally, she sighed, after calculating her losses for juicy gossip, weighing it less than the value of her friendship with Draco. "Alright. What's the dirt?"

Draco took his wet hand and ran it through his hair, imparting a little scent of rose in his hair. He smiled. With that, Draco drew a deep breath and spoke. "I think I like two people, and I want to hate both of them for two different reasons, and both are unattainable, and I just end up hating myself right now." His tone never warbled or wavered, and he said it very matter-of-factly. Draco looked up Pansy, who had a smirk on her face.

She took out her wand and conjured up a small chocolate box, and, handing Draco a caramel, said, "You're so vague, Drakey. You've got Blaise, who are these other boys?"

"One is Blaise."

"Blaise is not unattainable."

"He is when he thinks of you as a brother ONLY, and likes someone else."

"OOH! WHO?!?!?" Draco looked down into his lap, he could tell Pansy, but that would break his promise to Blaise, but Pansy promised not to talk.

He whispered, "The weasel…" Her eyes widened a bit. Then she stabbed a raspberry chocolate with her wand, and, popping it into her mouth, said casually,

"What the fuck, Blaise. He was always a bit weird. Gingers, huh… They don't even have souls." They laughed.

"You need to stop looking at that god-awful muggle thing!"

"You need to loosen up!" She laughed, "So who's this other guy then? Do I know him?"

"Yeah."

"Is he cute?"

"No shit. I'm a Malfoy. We don't just breed with anyone, Pansy. But I don't think he used to be."

"Hmm…. Oh! I know."

"No you don't."

"A woman's intuition is a marvelous thing. Plays quidditch?"

"Yes."

"Always getting in trouble?"

"Yes." Draco shifted uncomfortably. Pansy was a little too accurate.

"Knocks bookstands over?" Draco blanched completely white. There was no way she didn't have the right guy. Definitely NOT cool.

"No. It's not Potter!" He laughed, but it came out nervously. Pansy noticed.

"Sure about that? You seemed to not enjoy teasing him like you usually do."

"I wasn't in the mood."

"Liar."

"Fuck this." Sour, Draco leaned back against the recliner, closed his eyes and tried to calm down. Suddenly, he felt Pansy crawl onto the recliner with him and hold him.

"Is he a Gryffindor?"

"I think we established the other guy, Pansy."

"Well, you won't have to worry about him wearing silver around you."

"That's the thing, Pansy! I don't WANT to. I shouldn't have to care about HIM! He's been my enemy for YEARS! And NOW…. NOW I think of him as this cute guy I want to hug! I think of him as someone that DOES look better in silver than gold. I mean, Pansy: I've like Blaise for a while, and still more than Harry, but,… I just… I don't know. I'm stressed out, and that's just gonna give me premature wrinkles." He frowned and put a hand up to smooth the worry lines on his forehead.

"Oh PUH-LEASE. Fuck all that. You called him Harry. That's proof enough. I'll deal with the twerp. He's cute enough, but I think he's straight, you know, getting that ginger Weasley chick."

"He's gay. But seriously, that doesn't solve my problem! I SENT HIM A NOTE. Oh my god: I am a failure." Draco was whiny, and Pansy hated a whiny Draco.

"My GOD, Draco. Shut the FUCK up. Just get your ass to Harry tonight and make up, or make out, or whatever the hell you do, but just fucking stop WHINING. You're a Malfoy. Malfoys are NEVER failures. I don't even think Blaise is right for you if he likes a retarded Weasley anyway."

"You are REALLY liberal."

"Some people call it being a whore."

"Slut." She slapped him and they laughed, just two friends: comforting in a room of uncertainty, dark and light at the same time. Maybe this once, Draco thought, love would work outside of a fairytale. In Pansy's mind however, a small plan to ruin Blaise was formulating in her mind, even if it meant accepting Potter. Why? Blaise took her virginity, and left her a whore.

-----

That night, Harry snuck out quietly and half-ran, half-walked to the portrait of the fruit bowl. He really didn't know any definite time, considering the note just said tonight. Upon rounding the corner to the corridor, Draco stepped out from behind the armor of some knight. He pulled out his wand and cast a silencing charm before saying anything.

"Hello… Harry." Harry sounded more appropriate than Potter at this point, and Harry barely blushed when Draco said it.

"Hey… um, Draco. What'd you want?" Draco conjured a large sofa for them to sit on, and when both boys had situated themselves on opposite corners, Draco spoke.

"I just wanted to talk, I guess. As friends, I guess. Secret friends? I DO have a reputation." Harry frowned a bit.

"Uh, Yeah. I have a reputation too, though."

"Whatever. Anyway, um… What's up?" Draco was twiddling his thumbs.

"Seriously? 'What's up?' That's it? I thought you were going to be serious." Harry rolled his eyes and made to stand up and leave. Draco panicked, half pulling himself up from the sofa.

"Wait Harry! Can you just stay? I just need to talk to someone. About anything." Harry paused and turned around to look at Draco.

"Why should I stay? What is there to talk about? You're too ashamed to admit you were wrong in saying that I'm a worthless git like you've said all these years, and PUBLICLY be my friend. Get some balls, Malfoy."

"Can I say that I'm sorry? Or that I DO want to be your friend?"

"Why?"

"Come here." Draco pointed to the spot on the sofa. Obediently, with a strange look, Harry cautiously walked over to the spot and sat down. Draco shushed him with a whisper, and wrapped his arms around Harry. "Because… I like this." With that Harry relaxed into the embrace, shifting so that his wings went around Draco, who gasped softly, and with a shuddering breath said, "What is this?"

Harry had no answer.

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A/N: PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! AWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!! :] :] :] :] :] I love draco and harry cuteness. :] So send me your thoughts! More to come I hope! Lol. (sorry for the delay again. :[ )


	9. A Howler and Firewhiskey

Make Me a Match—Chapter 9— A Howler and Firewhiskey

Author: Aian Omoi

A/N: Look! I'm updating!

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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A few days later, Pansy had her plan set in motion. She licked the flap to a bright scarlet envelope and tied it to a pigeon's leg, which confusedly flew off to the owlery. She smiled. Pansy Parkinson would have her revenge, and she had Harry Potter to thank.

---

At breakfast that day, Harry sat talking to Ron and Ginny and Hermione about nothing in particular. Their schedules only overlapped a little, and Harry seemed to have predominantly Slytherin classes this year. He had potions with them, double charms, and defense against the dark arts, which would be taught by Kingsley Shacklebolt this year. The Order had decided that it was necessary to put Kingsley there as a permanent resident in case Dumbledore required assistance on the slim chance that The Dark Lord would somehow slip by the boundaries of the School.

However, the day would just be another day: Gryffindors jolly for the new schoolyear, and the Slytherins hating them. That is, except Draco, Pansy and Blaise, but all for different reasons. The mail arrived in a flutter of black, white, brown and grey feathers (and few "oopsies" from the first years' owls). Packages fell like rain, and the daily prophet circulated tables from owners to moochers with ease. Unfortunately, along with the packages came a red envelope right towards Ron Weasley.

Seeing it, Ron noticeably gulped, hoping the darn Howler wasn't addressed to him, but knowing it was his owl, he accepted his fate, trying to think of anything he had already done. Hermione just gave him a sour look.

"Honestly Ron, what could you possibly have done already?"

"I don't know, 'Mione! I can't think of anything!" The owl dropped the smoking envelope onto his plate of food and Ron quickly snatched it, trying to avoid a scene, but he wasn't quick enough. The letter burst into flames, transforming into a snarling but sublime mouth, and hovered in the air. Almost as if checking for everyone's attention, it spun around in the air, eyed its audience and began proclaiming at the top of its papery lungs:

"RONALD WEASLEY: YOU HAVE A CRUSH! COME NOW, YOU KNOW *HIS* NAME!!!! THAT SLYTHERIN BOY THAT FANCIES YOU, RONNIE-POO! I BET HE'D LIKE TO DO DIRTY THINGS TO YOU!" Ron's face had gone completely white, which was a feat considering that Ron was already very pale. In fact, he looked a bit green, only keeping from losing his breakfast because he didn't want to do it in front of the whole school. But the Howler wasn't finished: "MM-HMM! COME ON, RON! LET'S HAVE A GUESS! NO? LET'S JUST SAY ZABINI HAS A THING FOR LITTLE BOYS! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!" The howler's laughter only got louder as it ripped itself up until the first year girls had to cover their ears, and there was a collective ringing in the air with the echo of the laugh. Needless to say, Ron couldn't handle it any longer, and lost all of his stomach on his plate, which consequently disappeared to the kitchens for some poor house elf to clean. Hermione put a hand on Ron's shoulder, telling him not to make a scene, but Ron was far too gone to stop whatever bloodthirsty plan it was that he had. Blaise, for his part, had kept a level stomach, stood up, and was backing away towards the doors arched way of the Great Hall, tears streaming down his face.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Roared Ron, lunging like some savage animal across the table, sprinting after him. "EXPELLIARMUS! STUPEFY! PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" Hex after hex was flung at the Italian, and all he could do was deflect them before running away somewhere deep into the bowels of Hogwarts, with Ron giving chase. The school was stunned throughout the affair, which lasted all of four minutes, before breaking out into a cacophonic chatter of gossip. Pansy laughed, Draco just zoned out, shocked, Dumbledore shook his head and started directing teachers to sort it all out, and Harry was frozen solid. Harry's wings twitched something awful as he thought, knowing he could find Ron and fix this, but for some reason, not wanting to. It wasn't as if Blaise had ever done anything outright to them, but Harry kept having this nagging feeling that Blaise was the enemy. So all Hogwarts could do was wait until the teachers found Blaise dead or Ron wanting to die, as the ceiling turned a stormy black.

---

"You know, Elmadora, secrets about your dates are NOT appreciated." Lyphinnea was whining again about Elmadora's affair.

"Shut up. I'm knitting." She was making a new scarf out of napaloff fur to go with the jacket she had already made out of the leathery hide. Sipathae groaned. It was starting again. Why couldn't Lyphinnea give it a rest? Elmadora would tell them soon enough, which was exactly what Elmadora said.

"But I wanna know NOW!" Lyphinnea twitched her bubble-gum pink wings to ruffle Elmadora's feathers, but ended up pulling out the thread from the scarf and unraveling a large portion as she tried to shake it off. Elmadora became so enraged that she launched herself onto Lyphinnea in a fiery blaze, while Sipathae sighed and continued making dinner.

"You messed up his scarf!"

"You won't tell me anything!"

"You don't need to know!"

"Yes I do! I'm your sister!"

"You're a jerk!"

"I know! Tell me!"

"No!" This continued for a bit until a sudden chill hit the whole room and Elmadora and Lyphinnea stopped wrestling long enough to notice what was going on. Dazed, they all stared at the three cards on the table as the door blew open to show Elder Zyphal barging in and staring at the cards with the three Matchmakers.

One card burst into flame and became a pile of screaming ash.

---

The rumor was that Ron killed Blaise, but the truth was that he just cornered him on top of the Astronomy tower. After a confessional 'I love you,' Blaise jumped and plummeted to his death. For his part, Ron was just as shocked and mortified as the rest of the student body. Within the first week, Hogwarts had met their first death of the schoolyear. If it hadn't been a Slytherin, Snape would've been caught celebrating. But as it were, Blaise had been such a close friend to Blaise that the news kind of swept the school like a plague. Ron received ugly looks from even Gryffindors, and was told to 'get the hell out of here, hater.' The stress alone should've broken him, but the real victim was Draco Malfoy.

His crush, now dead, hit him like no other freight train before. He was almost catatonic. In fact, Draco had to be force-fed during the second day when the school held a funeral, Mr. and Mrs. Zabini attended, practically ready to Avada the Weasley child, who remained locked in the Gryffindor area, so that that would not happen. Only Dumbledore noticed the three bird-like figures circling above. White carnations and red roses adorned the casket, held magically aloft on a bed of clear water, which lazily stirred the lilies resting on its surface. Each tear from the attendees drifted toward the casket and became part of the water. Nobody noticed the cloaked figure on a distant hill that contributed his share of tears.

Draco fell quickly into a sullen state of depression, contemplating cutting or suicide or some kind of release. Anything, he moaned, Anything else. He stopped studying and his grade dropped (not potions though) and he zoned out, staring up at the ceiling, often wondering why it had to be his happy dumb-as-a-rock Blaise. During this time, he felt like he needed someone else to comfort him. Someone that could understand pain and death and responsibility. He needed Harry, but couldn't figure it out. Draco was desperate, and one night, after drinking far too many rounds of firewhiskey, started banging on the Fat Lady for entrance.

"Cool it! You're ruffling my oils, Malfoy! … Harry, dear!" nobody answered for a while until Hermione opened the portrait door.

"Shit, Malfoy! How drunk are you?" He hiccupped.

"Not too much that another go at some Firewhiskey can't handle!" drawled Draco, ccompletely plastered.

"Damn it. Come here. Oh god, you stink." Hermione hefted the Malfoy heir in through to the common area, empty of people, and laid him on a large couch. Running upstairs to send a charm to wake Harry up, Hermione rushed to get a glass of water. She came back down with boy in tow and handed the drunk Malfoy the glass with a goodnight before returning to bed.

"Draco, what's wrong with you? Ugh, you really smell." Harry's face scrunched up a little and Draco laughed hysterically before becoming depressed again and standing up, swaying, and walking over to Harry. Harry cast a quick cleaning smell and a breath-mint charm so he could stand Draco's breath.

"He's dead!" At this point, Draco went to take another swig from the firewhiskey bottle he held in his hand, but was stopped by Harry's hand. "Hey! Oh, whatever. Such a pretty boy…," said Draco as he stroked Harry's face. "Blaise was such a pretty boy. God, I'm sucha depressing fag! Mm-hmm! Oh Harry, Harry… You're pretty too. Pretty wings and pretty face. I think I'm drunk." By now, Draco had been wriggling around in Harry's arms, sliding down until he was practically out of his shirt, not even using his legs, and Harry was trying to hold Draco up, which was a little difficult considering Draco's inability to cooperate.

"Draco! Come on! Stand up! You're a Malfoy!"

"Malfoys can love too."

"Ok, but Blaise is gone."

"Can I kill that Weasel?" Draco had the biggest puppy-dog pout Harry had ever seen in his life, but with the drunkenness, it just looked pathetic.

"No…. He's my friend, Draco. Ugh, Stand up!" Draco made some kind of twisting move to try and stand up and ended up knocking the two over back onto the couch, spilling Firewhiskey and water all over. Harry sighed and casted a few charms to clean things up while Draco just lay there, kind of looking around.

"I wanna kill him. Why do you have wings?" Harry bit his lip, wanting really to tell Draco the truth, but not wanting to risk the delicacy of their friendship. After a bit of tribulation, Harry decided that Draco was so drunk anyway, that he'd forget it.

"Don't kill Ron, please. And It's because I'm something other than human I guess, and a certain part of that means liking you."

"oh. Ok. Pretty, soft wings. Can I touch them?" Harry hesitated.

"Um, ok?" Draco began to rub the upper part of a wing, feeling the light bone underneath and the soft downy feathers there. Draco felt hot little sparks running up and down his fingers and Harry's breath hitch now and then, accompanied by a soft breath of air across Draco's forehead. Very soon, Harry wrapped his leg around Draco, drawing him closer, snuggling deeply into the crook in Draco's neck.

"What do you mean, something other than human?"

"I'm a veela, Draco." Draco stopped rubbing Harry's wings, pulled himself out of Harry's embrace and back up from the couch. Harry sat up quickly. "What's wrong?"

"You like me then. That's why I can see your wings."

"Probably."

"I can't like you Harry. You're a Potter, I'm a Malfoy." Harry got up and crossed over to Draco, laying his head on the taller boys chest.

"Fuck our last names."

And with that, Harry and Draco were enveloped in flames, drawing a gasp from both boys, and causing Harry's wings to shiver and stretch out to their full span, before Harry and Draco both disappeared into nothingness.

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A/N: PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! What a cliffhanger! Hahahahhaha :] So review so that I can write some more junk! :]


	10. Playing with Fire

Make Me a Match—Chapter 10— Playing with Fire

Author: Aian Omoi

A/N: Look! I'm updating! Frequently-ish!!! hahaha I think a few of you will like this one. :]

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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There was only darkness around them, and the faint sound of wind somehow whistling around whatever structure they were now in. The flames that had transported them to this place crept down their bodies and spilt like a pool across the floor, illuminating and charring the rose petals strewn about the ground, radiating from red to pink to white in a circular pattern. Each time a petal was consumed by the fire, they burst into little pockets of rosy incense. Harry and Draco still held each other as they witnessed whatever events might unfold.

As the flames, which now turned white, began to inflame the walls of the structure which they now noticed was a cave. Reaching the ceiling, they circulated into a single condensed orb, like a chandelier, which dropped to the central ground point below: Harry and Draco, and burst into a column of fire, gently washing the boys with its startling presence. Harry and Draco released each other, feeling the fire fall of their skin without a single burn, like a waterfall.

This all occurred in a matter of seconds as rings emanated from the top of the column out around the domed, circular room back to the base of the column every few seconds, like a heartbeat, but slower. Taking a cautious step, Harry detached himself from Draco out from the column of fire, only to be followed by the magical flames.

"What is this?" Draco asked Harry, now sobered by the strange events.

"No clue." Harry twisted his hand and twirled his fingers around in the white flames, marveling at their gossamer touch. Suddenly, through a door behind them, which they had not noticed, four figures, shrouded in black fire, entered and sat each on thrones of crackling fire.

"Who are you?!" Questioned Draco, motioning for Harry to come stand near him so that they could better fortify their position if need be.

"We are but pawns in the game of Fate." Said the first.

"Interpreters of Destiny." Said the second.

"Those who would see the kismet of two beings." Said the third.

"I am a Matchmaker." Said the first figure again, who spread their black wings out behind them. Their fire disappeared, seemingly sucked like a whirlpool into a broach on their cloak. Their face was hidden by a dark hood as they sat ever still on a burgundy throne, free of fire. Her wings crackled with bolts of black lightning, which now and then struck at the ground or the ceiling near the boys.

"I am a Matchmaker." Said the second as well. Her wings, when unfurled, expanded into two ivory-white appendages, which were circled by a clear, gel-like encasing of water, which rushed down to the ground, soaking the floor before the boys' feet before coming up to encase their whole body, quenching the flames which were then sucked into a pendant on the neck of the Matchmaker. The gel-like water continued to circle their body continuously as the third figure spoke.

"I am a Matchmaker." They said, unfurling bubble-gum pink wings, whose fires were instead brought to the tips of their wings instead of trapped into a jewel. Their fire formed a secondary set of wings which set sparks off into the cold air around them. Like the others, sitting on the same burgundy throne (those this one's was a slight bit larger), this Matchmaker was also hidden by a black hood and cloak. Only the fourth figure remained silent. That is, until he spoke.

"I am a Matchmaker." Their fire was pulled into a ring and a brooch on their chest which darkly shimmered in the poor light. This one had no wings but there was a wind that circled his arms and body. Harry and Draco were still unknowing of what they should do, trying desperately to come up with something, but they had no idea where they were and what spells might be in place. Plus, they were sort of curious. Matchmaker didn't sound like Dark Lord material or anything. Not very intimidating at all.

"Harry. Show us your wings." Said the third Matchmaker, her voice more seemingly feminine. It had been hard to tell if any of the voices had had a gender at first because of the crackling of the fire. Harry glanced over at Draco nervously before allowing his wings to come out into the open. Draco marveled at their sheer beauty as the Matchmakers drew in a short breath, like a restrained gasp.

"Scarlet." Said the fourth.

"Black." Said the first.

"Blood and loneliness." Said the third.

"Hope." Said the second. Harry and Draco exchanged looks after each of these lines, wondering what it meant, cringing that the thought of blood and separation. "Harry," spoke the second figure again. "Please demonstrate your Gift."

Looking bewildered, Harry answered, "Excuse me?"

"Your Gift: what your veela soul begs for release. As I shed lightning, so you shed something in turn." Explained the first figure.

"I don't have a clue as to what you're talking about. I don't know where I am and I don't know who any of you are. If this is about me, why is he here?" Here, Harry pointed to Draco, before continuing, "How can I trust you? What is this?"

"How rude of us! My name is--" The fourth figure never said his name because he was interrupted by Draco's interjection.

"Uncle Z!" Draco ran to the figure and threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly, much to the chagrin of the attendees, minus Harry who was a little irate at being in the middle of all this without knowing what exactly was going on. "I haven't seen you in YEARS! What's all of this about with Harry?" Elder Zyphal, or Uncle Z, chuckled before releasing Draco and saying,

"Actually, It's Elder Zyphal. I am the Matchmaker for the Vampires throughout the world. Lyphinnea, it might be better if we just explained everything. Plus, even as the room smells beautifully – nice touch Sipathae- I can't stand it. It's always so dark in here." With that, he motioned for an extremely stressed Harry and ushered Draco in with him. The remaining Matchmakers followed, taking off their hoods as Zyphal did.

The room they were welcomed into was a strangely cozy living room, with hides and yarns and cards and mahogany wood furniture and lovely slate surfaces and comfy hand-stitched blankets. The boys sat together on a loveseat while the others each took a seat on various chairs or recliners.

"You see," began Lyphinnea, "As matchmakers, we're obligated to inform you of what's going to happen. Harry, dear, you'll be wanting to, um, forgive me for the crudeness of it, but, have sex with Draco." Draco blanched. Harry blushed.

"Which is precisely the thing we want to prevent, because Draco should be a dominant Vampire."

"VAMPIRE?!" Harry exclaimed, turning to Draco so fast that it was a wonder he didn't get whiplash. "VAMPIRE? WHEN WERE YOU GONNA TELL ME *THAT*?"

"Hey, I didn't know I was gonna be in that kind of relationship with you! How was I supposed to know I was gonna have to tell you that! It's not like I planned on liking you! I just found out over the summer!" Harry sat back against the sofa, scooting a bit away from Draco, and stewing with frustration.

"Boys…" Elmadora muttered under her breath with disdain.

"Well…. ANYWAY, Nothing's worse than a dominant Veela, and this normally wouldn't be a problem, except that Draco's vampirism sets the veela off inside of Harry. A natural animalistic reaction, and we'd prefer that when you two bond on Draco's birthday, that Draco would be the one, to uh… you know, do it." Zyphal ended lamely. Apparently sex wasn't the best topic of discussion for these Matchmakers, which was ironic because it was a very large part of their business.

"Hey, who said anything about a relationship anyway?" questioned Harry.

"Yeah." Agreed Draco.

Sipathae reached for the table in front of them, snatching two cards. "Sorry dears, that's just the way it is. Fate chose you two." Harry sighed with resignation. This was just the sort of thing that would happen to the Boy Who Lived.

"So now Harry, What's your Gift?" queried Lyphinnea.

"I honestly don't know." He looked at Draco, who for some reason was blushing furiously.

"Ah. We thought that might be the case. Your mother could have shown you such glorious things." Elmadora ruminated.

"You knew my mother?"

"No, not directly, but we watched her. She had been matched with your father, and we knew something wonderful would come of your birth. Her proficiency in wizard magic and veela magic alike was profound. Her gift was the ability to protect things with an abnormally strong amount of magic. She once said it was through love."

"And that's why I didn't die when Voldemort came?" Zyphal spat when Harry said the dark wizard's name.

"Yes. So now, we need to know your Gift. Like a patronus, it will take time to cultivate, so close your eyes." Coached Sipathae.

"And think of Draco. His eyes, His lips, His heart. Think of all these things. Now your most dear friends, and the world you love. Think of what makes you happy. Think of what helps you live." Continued Elmadora. Harry smiled, recalling memories long since passed, and, relaxing, felt himself slump a little against Draco's shoulder. Draco pulled Harry's head against the crook of his neck and shoulder, that place where Harry fir most perfectly.

"Now think," continued Lyphinnea, "Of them disappearing and leaving the one thing that would take them away from you. Think of what you would do to them. Think of how evil they are. Think of Voldemort." Harry tensed, feeling something feral inside of himself rip through. His eyelids opened, revealing blank, white eyes. Harry sat up straight, and as if in a trance, walked out of the cave into the vast expanse of Alaska, his wings twitching with madness.

Suddenly, Harry let out some kind of howl that was a cross between a desperate swan song and the predatory scream of bird of prey. As soon as he reached the climax of the crescendo, Harry burst into flames, which burnt the ground into a charred nothingness. A cage of flame enveloped the Matchmakers and Draco gently without harm, as the second phase of Harry's Gift began.

Harry doubled over and then violently convulsed as dark clouds circled down from the sky to his fists. The snow froze in the air as if time had, but it really hadn't. A dark shadowy figure appeared from nothing to stand in front of Harry. It was a ghostly vision of The Dark Lord. Harry began to convulse again and after the paroxysm, stood straight to face his most innate demon. His cloudy fists rose, flattening into just Harry's hands, before Harry threw a cloudy orb at the vision, which disappeared and reappeared elsewhere. Harry fell into a cosmic rhythm: pulling cloud out from Heaven, casting it at the vision, pulling fire from his soul, casting it at the vision, pulling some kind of cosmic energy from nothingness, casting it at the vision, and when Harry could no longer move with exhaustion, the whole scene fell apart.

As the darkness overtook him, Harry last recalled Draco's worried eyes, Voldemort disappearing into a void, and wings and cloaks protecting him from the freezing snow.

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A/N: PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! An entire chappie with the Matchmakers! YEAH!!


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